Chapter Two
Mackenzie
Day One
I paced my living room like a puma during a hunt. I moved rapidly from one end of the room to the other, my thoughts consuming me. My fingers still tingled from the treasures I had stolen. It was always like that after a successful caper. I had all kinds of nervous energy I needed to expend. If I didn’t, I would probably go crazy.
I couldn’t help but smile every time I thought about the gala. Absconding with those paintings had been a piece of cake. Now I had a few treasures I could sell on the black market and make an absolute fortune off of. I raised my arms above my head and stretched while wiggling my ass in a happy dance. Then I resumed my pacing.
After my screw-up at Jason’s place, I had started wondering if I should retire and get into another line of work. I had committed one blunder after another and had ended up feeling rather stupid, especially when I awakened to find myself handcuffed to his bed. Just thinking about it started my blood boiling again. And then the jerk had had the nerve to force me to be his slave! I should have just taken the option of jail rather than swallowing my pride and working as his assistant—even if it had been for only one day. But then I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to get the paintings, so it had all worked out splendidly in the end.
Getting caught at Jason’s house had caused me to doubt myself, but plucking those paintings at the gala had reaffirmed I was a force to be reckoned with, and Jason had better not take that lightly.
Jason and Brett had certainly made things easy, bickering with each other and vying for my attention and affection. They’d been putty in my hands. Jason may have stopped me once, but I was quick-witted and damn smart. I won in the end, and that was all that mattered.
I tried sitting down, but I had to keep moving. Too much nervous energy. I was waiting on bidders to take the paintings off my hands. That was an important part of the job—getting rid of the merchandise as quickly as possible. Keeping it around was too risky. Soon I would have a winning bidder, the paintings would be with their new owners within twenty-four to forty-eight hours, and I wouldn’t think about them again. That’s the way it always was for me. On to the next one.
The front door swung open, and a vivacious Vietnamese vixen strolled into the room with a big smile on her face. Lexy was my best friend and partner in crime. We had been living together for years. She was easily my favorite person in the whole world. We had been through a lot together, and we always had each other’s backs no matter what.
Lexy was super short but weighed a whopping 125 pounds. She didn’t have an ounce of fat, however. The girl was absolutely fierce in the gym and packed a lot of muscle. She could easily deadlift sixty pounds.
“Hey, Mackenzie, welcome home. I missed you, girl. How was the capering?”
“Well, my target changed unexpectedly, but in the end, I got two high-end paintings that were worth a lot more. So I would have to say it was a raging success.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“How about yourself?” I asked.
“You know that handsome businessman I’ve been scoping out for the past two weeks?”
“Oh, you mean the youngest CEO in the world?” I said, laughing. “Yeah, no small catch there, Lexy.”
“Yes, well…he’s my long-term plan. But, in the meantime, I was able to snatch some ancient Chinese relics from his young—and, might I add, very inexperienced—cousin.”
“James Trenton’s cousin? Wow, you are ballsy.”
“Oh, yeah, and he’s really nothing like him. He seemed almost scared, so the snatch was a piece of cake. So it sounds like we each had a very successful venture.”
“Yes, indeed we did,” I agreed. “We should celebrate.”
“Great idea. Why don’t we hit up our regular place?”
“Sounds good to me. Let me get ready.”
* * * * *
We went to a quaint little restaurant that had quickly become our favorite place to eat. It was a little hole in the wall that only people living in the neighborhood really knew about, but that didn’t hurt the business at all—it still managed to stay very busy. The locals knew they had a diamond in the rough and managed to be in there enough to keep the doors open. The food was amazing, and the staff were like one big family.
I had never felt so hungry in my life. I think the excitement of a caper and the adrenaline rush afterward often burned off more calories than a couple hours in the gym. By the time the waiter brought us our meals, I was ravenous. I had ordered pork chops with gravy and a rice stir fry.
Yum!
I couldn’t wait to devour it. The waiter had also brought us another round of drinks. I drank only whiskey on the rocks. It burned going down, reminding me that I was still alive—a reminder I needed every once in a while. I took a sip of it and let it warm me up.
I looked up at my oldest and dearest friend and bombarded her with questions. “Lexy, do you really want to do this forever? Where do you see all this going? Is this the life you always dreamed of having? Is there anything else you want in life?”
“Wow, that’s some heavy talk over pork chops, my friend.”
“I know.” I laughed, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “But I just wonder about it sometimes. It’s not like we dreamed of being thieves when we were young, so how in the world did we end up here?”
“You’re not alone. I wonder about that sometimes, too.”
“So what do you dream about? Anything?”
Lexy looked up from her plate of chicken and smiled at me. “I want to paint.”
“Really?” I said, surprised. How did I not know that?
“Yes, those paintings we steal? I admire the artists. I’ve always loved painting, but I don’t spend a lot of time honing the craft. I’d love to be an artist one day. To see my own work hanging in a gallery.”
“And someone else stealing it?”
She laughed out loud. “Exactly. I just love the amazing things that can be accomplished with a brush. Those paintings are just so incredible, and the people who created them? Imagine the things that must be going through their heads! They’re geniuses, and some of those who painted hundreds of years ago never got the recognition they deserved, not until after they were dead.”
I smiled at Lexy. It was one of the things I loved most about her—she had strong passions. She devoured life and saw the myriad colors in it. We lived a cynical existence at times, but no matter what we did, she lived life with abundant energy and with her eyes wide open. She had an optimistic view of the world, and although we worked together, she didn’t hold the same hatred for the rich as I did. To her, it was just a job.
“Yeah, I get that,” I told her. “I’ve always held a certain fascination for art, too. Of course, unlike you, I don’t have the talent to actually paint anything myself.”
“Well, I’ve been practicing my painting by creating replicas. It’s rather cool trying to mimic someone who has great technique, to see the brush strokes they used to get the painting the way they wanted it. I find it lots of fun. I’d like to set up my own studio and just paint all day. That’s my ultimate dream.”
“Sounds amazing. I hope you do it.”
“What about you? What do you want in life? Do you plan on doing this forever? I mean, let’s be honest, the money is great, and it’s very exciting. We live very comfortably, and we don’t want for anything. What more could we really ask for?”
I took a sip of my drink and thought about it for a moment. “To be honest, I’m not sure. I’m pretty content in my life. And you’re right. I haven’t wanted for anything in a really long time. I really love my life although I don’t think I’ll caper until I die. But I’m not sure what direction my life will take—or the direction I want it to take.”
“You really don’t want anything else?”
“Lexy, all I want is to be free.” I stared down into my drink. “I don’t want to feel trapped or tied down. I just need to be free. That’s what makes me happy. I also want you to be happy—that’s very important to me.”
She smiled. “Well, thank you, and of course I want the same thing for you.”
I had given Lexy my honest answer about the whole thing, and nothing I had said was untrue. But internally, I was constantly fending off images of Jason’s face. I don’t know why he kept popping up in my mind’s eye. Why I was wasting any time thinking about him. He had treated me like a prisoner and had tried to take from me the one thing I needed and wanted—freedom.
So why am I thinking about him?
I shouldn’t be. Just like those paintings, once he was out of my life, I should have been able to forget him. And yet there I was, sitting across from my best friend, eating pork chops, and the only thing I could focus on was a man who had handcuffed me to his bedside table.